


Couples Therapy

by maisondumepris (myonly_hope)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Trailers, bucky and sam share one braincell and neither of them are using it today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29289960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myonly_hope/pseuds/maisondumepris
Summary: Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson finally turn up to therapy
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader, Sharon Carter (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (basically a rewrite of that scene in tfatws trailer but you're the exasperated couples therapist)
> 
> follow me on tumblr maisondumepris.tumblr.com xx

You had a PhD, you reminded yourself. You had a PhD in psychotherapy from Columbia. You had a _masters_ in couples and family counselling. You had given a TED talk on the importance of maintaining healthy relationships after the blip. You had a _goddamn_ PhD. 

And yet all you wanted to do was _scream_ at the two men - no, _children_ sat before you.

It had all started when Captain America and The Winter Soldier had decided to, in typical Captain America The Winter Soldier fashion, take matters into their own hands. They had, despite the kevlar suits, high tech goggles and giant metal _arm,_ decided to go undercover to disrupt some sort of underground crime syndicate, without any permission from their superiors and _bickering_ the whole way through.

When a usually level-headed and calm Sharon Carter had come to you, exasperated by their childish antics and reckless attitudes, you had offered to schedule them in for an appointment. 

Your first email was responded to by Sam:

_Tinman is the one who needs therapy, not me._

_Sent from my iPhone._

To which James had replied:

_Dear Dr. Y/L/N_

_I am not the one jumping headfirst out of planes with_ _zero_ _plan._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_James Buchanan Barnes_

Culminating in the ever professional response from you to both of them.

_Hello boys,_

_It’s just a chat about your relationship and how you can better work together in the field to avoid situations like this._

_I’ve pencilled you in for a session at 3:15 pm this Tuesday._

_All the best,_

_Dr. Y/L//N_

Three pencilled in sessions later, each of which you spent alone, feet kicked up on your desk and reading a worn-out old paperback, as you waited for your no-show clients, and you were getting increasingly frustrated messages from Sharon.

“They trashed a _nightclub.”_

“They blew up a truck.”

“They’re playing _frisbee_ with Captain America’s _shield_.”

When you had seen Sam Wilson in the hallway two days later, you had taken a gamble and cornered him.

“What can I do for you, honey?” He flirted, but it did not shift the glare from your expression. “Autograph?”

“How about you and Barnes turn up to your therapy sessions so I’m not wasting an hour of my day _waiting?_ ”

“Ahh…” Sam smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips upward. “The shrink.”

“The _therapist._ ” You corrected him. “The very highly-paid sought after _doctor_ that has been asked to _help_ you two.”

“We’re fine, _doctor.”_

“Sharon Carter seems to think otherwise.”

You held his gaze, his eyes playful as yours narrowed into angry slits. Eventually, he huffed, uncrossing his arms and slipping his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll talk to Barnes.” 

You smiled, relaxing your expression into your usual, kind, therapy face. 

“Thank you.” You turned on your heel and began walking to the cafeteria, “3.15 pm, Tuesday. Floor 5, room 342.” 

“It’s a date, honey.”

* * *

Bucky and Sam were staking out a lead, perched on a roof in the middle of the city. Sam was crouched, high tech goggle scanning the fourteenth-floor room of the building across from them. Bucky stood behind him, making no attempt to conceal himself, phone in hand lighting his face as he watched your Ted talk. 

“She’s intelligent.”

“Surprised a woman has a brain, Barnes?” Sam didn’t take his eye from the job. “This isn’t the 1940’s, man, women are doctors too.”

“I wasn’t saying _that,_ it was an _objective observ-”_ He finally caught on to his partner's sarcastic tone and glared at the back of his head, fighting the urge to push him off the building. He’d done it before. Wilson had wings. 

“-be real - after the five years we’ve had? We all need therapy.” You joked through the screen and a quiet laugh echoed around through the room. “In a pre-blip society, we treated therapy like it was something only for those who had nothing else to turn to. For those that had experienced trauma unlike any ‘normal’ person. Well, now we have collectively gone through the biggest trauma we could possibly imagine. So, we _all_ have a right to therapy.”

“She’s cute,” Bucky muttered, almost to himself. Sam scoffed.

“Out of your league.” 

“Well that must mean she’s playing an entirely different sport to _you_.”

“Why would she go for you when she could have _Captain America?_ ” Sam teased.

“Why would she go for you when she could have _taste?_ ” Bucky retorted, locking his phone and slipping it in his pocket.

“Taste? Is that what they’re calling delusion nowadays.” 

Bucky raised one leg, pressed his foot to Sam’s back and kicked him off the building.

* * *

You were surprised when Tuesday rolled around and at 3:35pm, there was a knock at your door. You had gotten into your usual comfortable position, heels kicked off, legs propped up on your desk, hot cup of coffee in one hand and a trashy romance novel in the other, prepared for yet another hour of waiting for two dysfunctional superheroes who would never show. But then, there was another knock, and you sat up straight.

“Come in?” 

You tried to hide your shock when none other than The Winter Soldier waltzed into your office, Captain America close behind.

“James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, _doll._ ” He drawled out holding his non-metal hand out for you to shake. You fought to keep your composure as you shot him a polite smile, shaking his hand.

“Well, _James_ ,” You emphasised your use of his first name, wanting to keep your professional reputation intact, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to see you again, honey.” Sam winked your way and you frowned at both of their suddenly _extremely_ charming demeanours. 

“Yes, well.” You narrowed your eyes at them, spinning on your chair towards your filing cabinet behind you. From the third drawer, you pulled out two very large files. Turning back to the ow men sat opposite you, you placed the files down in front of you, smiling warmly. Both men eyed the files fearfully. “You’re late so… Let’s get started shall we?”

You flipped to a clear page in your notebook, writing the date, time and the boys full names at the top.

“Now, you were both very close with Steve Rogers, the first Captain America, correct?” 

The boys were silent, then Bucky smiled, reaching across the table and picking up the paperback you had left out by accident. You reached to stop him, but it was too late, and he leant back in his chair flicking through.

“Lover of romance, hmm, doll?” He smiled and Sam relaxed next to him, smirking your way.

“It’s a hobby, James.” You sighed, writing _both touchy about Steve_ in your notebook, shielded from their view.

“But no ring.” Sam pressed, leaning forward. Instinctively, you wrapped your left hand in your right. “No romance in your real life, Doctor?”

“We’re here to talk about you, boys,” you said sternly, “not me.” You snatched back your paperback when Bucky placed it back on the desk, dropping it into your bag on the floor.

“Well how about we talk about you and me, honey?” Sam leaned even further forward, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Dinner tomorrow night?”

“I don’t date my clients, Samuel.” You chastised, and Bucky scoffed.

“Rejected.” He teased.

“Hey, I at least had the balls to ask, tinman.” Sam turned a steely gaze to his partner, and you cocked your head at their exchange. “All your pointless flirting.” 

“It’s called build-up, Wilson. This is exactly what pisses me off about you, you rush in.”

“Why pussyfoot around when you could get straight to it, Barnes?”

“Well, I don’t envy the women you take to bed,” Bucky grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Hey, I have _never_ had any complaints.” Sam jabbed his finger in Bucky’s face. 

You scribbled down some notes over their exchange and both men fell silent, realising you were in the room and analysing their every word.

“You mentioned that Sam rushing in is something that annoys you, James. Would you like to expand on that?” You looked up at them, pleased with how stunned they looked at your lack of fear at their petty exchange. Bucky gulped.

“Well…” He sighed. “He never has a plan.”

“I always have a plan.”

“Yeah, well, you never share it with me.” Bucky glared at Sam again.

“And how does that make you feel?” You pressed.

“Frustrated.” Bucky snapped. 

“Frustrated? Wanna talk about frustrating? How about your anger issues. You pushed me off a _building_ last night.” 

“You have wings, _pigeon._ ”

You wrote frantically, not looking up from your notebook. “Do you fear James when he’s like that, Sam?” You asked, receiving no answer. You frowned, looking up.

Both men were glaring at each other, holding one another's gaze without blinking.

“Sam?” You asked, and yet again received no response.

“Okay… what are you doing?” You frowned, setting down your notebook.

Neither moved, scowls fixed to their faces as they refused to break eye contact.

“Are you having a staring contest?” You asked in disbelief. Maybe if you just let them duke it out… you thought, watching them intently. 

Thirty-six seconds passed. 

“Just blink, sweet Jesus.” You reached out, clicking in their face. Sam smirked, turning to look at you, as Bucky continued to glare.

“How old are you?” You muttered, gathering your thoughts to ask your next question when there was a knock at the door. You huffed, exasperated.

“Well, that’s my next appointment.” 

“So we’re done here?” Bucky stood.

“Yes, you’re free to go… jump out of planes and push each other off buildings.” You glared at the two of them, writing notes furiously in your notepad. 

“Does that mean you can finally answer my question about tomorrow night?” Sam flirted, flashing you a winning smile. You gave him a tight lip smile back, tearing your notes out of the notepad and slipping them into one of the files to copy later.

“Oh no, Mr. Wilson, you two are still my clients.” You turned, placing their files back into the filing cabinet. “Miss Carter was right, you two need more help than I thought.”

Bucky and Sam looked at each other wide-eyed.

You rounded the table, opening the door to let them out of your office. Your next client, an FBI desk agent with confidence problems cowered fearfully at the sight of the two men in the doorway. You smiled at them as they left.

“I’ll see you next week, boys. Try to be on time, hmm?”


	2. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally give in to the boys advances...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had no plans to add to this but then...
> 
> follow me on tumblr maisondumepris.tumblr.com xx

“I don’t know how you stand it,” Sharon muttered as she peered over your shoulder. You were scrolling through work emails on your phone and had opened one from Sam Wilson. It was one of his weekly emails - a reservation confirmation for a restaurant in Greenwich village that you could barely afford on  _ your _ paycheck. 

You shrugged, locking your phone and ignoring it as usual.

“Hey, at least they’re showing up.” You smiled at Sharon. “How are they doing in the field?”

“Classified.” She grinned, and you pouted.

“Given that when they were acting out you would message me incessantly, I guess this is a step in the right direction.” You murmured. Sharon’s smile widened, and she lowered her head to your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Hey look where it led us,” she kissed where your shoulder met your neck and you let your eyes flutter shut, “I’d say this is very much the right direction.”

“Hmm,” you turned your head, pressing your lips softly against hers, slowly sliding down from your seated position against the headboard to lie flat-

“Ouch.” You scowled, breaking your kiss as something hard jabbed into your thigh. You fished beneath the covers, wrapping your fingers around a metal object and yanking it from beneath your body.

“Sharon,” you scolded, glaring at the sheepish looking woman who lay beside you, fighting the urge to giggle, “nunchucks stay  _ out _ of the bedroom.”

You threw them across the room, the weapons clattering against the wooden floor. Sharon leaned in again, hand cupping your cheek lovingly.

“Sorry, Doctor.”

* * *

“How’s your soup?” Bucky broke the awkward silence.

Sam switched his glare from the $17 soup to the $50 idiot in front of him.

“ _ Fine _ .” 

Bucky smirked. Every week, Sam made this reservation, hoping one day you’d cave. Every week, you rejected him or simply did not respond, leaving Sam to drag Bucky to the dimly lit,  _ spectacularly _ decorated, Italian restaurant because they wouldn’t let him attend his two-person reservation alone. Cancelling would cost him a down-payment on a Honda. Unfortunately, he knew only one other available, depressingly single human being in his life who was guaranteed to not have plans on a Friday night - his partner and  _ nemesis _ , James Barnes. James Barnes who  _ relished _ the opportunity to sit across from Sam Wilson’s sour face every Friday night as he ordered the most expensive dishes on the menu for Sam to pay for.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” Bucky said, through a mouthful of caviar topped oysters, “she’s never gonna date you.”

“And you’re so successful, Walmart cyborg?” Sam slurped at his soup loudly.

Bucky smirked. He had ceased his flirting weeks ago, when, after the boys fifth session with you, he had returned a few hours later with flowers and chocolates and  _ genuinely  _ tried to woo you without any macho mating display.

“Oh, James,” you had smiled sadly, and Bucky had  _ immediately _ felt like a clown, blushing and scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m kinda seeing someone. This is really sweet, you and Sam but…”

“It’s alright, doll,” Bucky grinned at you lopsidedly, still holding out the flowers your way. You took them graciously as Bucky perched on the edge of your desk.

“Who is he, huh? Not someone me and Wilson are gonna have to beat up one of these days for breaking your heart?”

“ _ She  _ is… someone from work.” 

Bucky flushed again, embarrassed that he had made assumptions. 

“And you don’t have to worry about her breaking my heart, Barnes. I can handle myself.” 

“Well… still,” Bucky stood, crossing his arms over his chest, “you know who to call if she does.”

You laughed, almost certain that Sharon could best both Barnes and Wilson in a fight. 

“I sure do.”

“Maybe I need a new strategy,” Sam huffed, as the well-dressed waiter cleared the empty appetiser plates.

“Maybe you just need to move on,” Bucky said seriously. He hadn’t told Sam about your lack of availability, both because he wasn’t sure you wanted him to and because he kind of enjoyed sitting back and watching Sam making a fool of himself. Besides, with every failed flirtation from Sam, came an all-expenses-paid meal in a nice restaurant where  _ soup _ that would’ve cost him less than a buck in the forties cost  _ seventeen dollars. _

“You giving up that easy, forky?” Sam smirked. 

“Just worried about how much money you’ve got left in your bank account, Casanova.” Bucky teased, as the waiter placed a lavish-looking leg of lamb before him and a depressingly sparse salad in front of Sam.

“Maybe you should stop spending it then.” Sam scowled, stabbing the lettuce with his fork as the two began their usual staring contest. Bucky carefully cut into his lamb, raising it to his mouth.

“Mmmm, delicious.” He groaned exaggeratedly as Sam’s scowl deepened. 

“Give me some, man.” He whined, reaching his fork over the table towards Bucky’s plate. 

Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, his metal hand locking around Sam’s wrist and twisting.

“OW FUCK,” Sam yelped, yanking his hand away as the ambient sounds filling the room silenced with a deafening halt. The piano player halted, glaring their way. The waiters stopped mid movement, looking at them in horror. Dinner guests glowered unhappily. 

Sam and Bucky glanced around sheepishly, Bucky fighting a laugh. He raised his hand, flagging down a waiter.

“Your most expensive bottle of red, please sir.”

* * *

“Seventy-five, Seventy-six, Seventy-seven-”

Bucky blinked. Sam let out a loud whoop of triumph.

“Well boys, that was a new record.” You smirked at the two idiots in front of you. It had become routine that at the end of your ever-increasingly more productive sessions, the boys would partake in their usual staring contest - turned to face each other, legs intertwined, as they  _ glared _ at each other like children.

“You’re getting worse at this, Tarzan.” Sam knocked his knee against Bucky’s, who rolled his eyes, turning back to face you.

“Well, that’s all we’ve got-”

“Alright, honey.” Sam sighed, leaning on the desk. “One last shot. Dinner this friday?” He paused, and then clasped his hands together, “ _ Please? _ ”

You smiled sadly, glancing at Bucky. You were about to turn him down again, ready to tell him about Sharon, when the woman of your thoughts appeared in the window of your office door, peering in. Maybe… you could have some fun with this?

“How about a double date?” You cocked an eyebrow at Sam, who didn’t even attempt to stop his eyes from widening and jaw from falling slack. Had you just… said… yes?

“You, me, James and a… friend.” Your eyes flitted to Bucky, whose frown slowly morphed into a smirk, figuring out your intentions immediately.

“Yes.  _ Yes.  _ A double date.” Sam threw his arms out wide, looking at Bucky in disbelief. 

Bucky sarcastically mimicked Sam’s surprise, slapping him on the back in congratulations.

“I’m sure the restaurant will be more than happy to add two to your booking given that you’ve spent-”

“Seven alright for you, honey?” Sam turned back to you, and you fought the urge to laugh.

“Seven is great, Sam. We’ll see you there.” 

“Alright.” Sam beamed, and you almost,  _ almost _ , felt bad for doing this to him. “Alright, we’ll see you there. Both of you. And you.” He turned to Bucky, who stood, ready to leave.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the  _ world. _ ”

* * *

“Tell me  _ why  _ we’re doing this again?” Sharon grumbled, holding out her hand for you to steady yourself as you climbed out of the yellow cab. You took it gratefully, threading your fingers through hers as you stood upright on the pavement.

“ _ Because... _ it’ll get them to finally stop  _ asking. _ ” You whined, reaching up on your toes so you could peck Sharon’s pouting lips affectionately.

She sighed, considering your words, before raising her hand to your cheek, pulling you in for a softer, longer kiss. 

“Does this mean we’re like, official official?” She murmured against your lips. “We can tell people at work?”

You smiled, stepping away and gently tugging her towards the restaurant doors.

“Yes.”

* * *

Bucky and Sam had arrived twenty minutes prior, Sam eager to get this date started. 

“She’s punctual, Barnes,” Sam had muttered as they waited at the bar, “you never know, she could be early. How impressed will she be when we’re already here.”

Bucky had rolled his eyes, ordered himself a scotch and  _ wished _ he could get drunk on it.

When you had walked through the doors with Sharon on your arm, Sam’s eyes had widened, nudging Bucky.

“Err… what’s the statute of limitations on dating your friend’s ex?”

Bucky cocked his head in thought. “Well… given that he married her great-aunt, is now a fossil and they never got past first base... Seven years seems just enough time.” 

Sam shoved him so hard he nearly fell off the stool. 

“Boys.” You approached, gleam in your eye.

“You look good, doll.” Bucky complimented, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek in a polite greeting. You grinned, winking at him as you pulled away.

“Thanks, James. Sharon helped me pick it out.” You elbowed Sharon in the side, and she shot you a glare, eager to get to the  _ point _ of this prank.

“Shall we.” Bucky gestured to the main dining room. 

You were seated at what had become Bucky and Sam’s usual table, now with two extra chairs. The waiters knew them both by name and doted on them affectionately, asking if Sam would have his usual and if Bucky would like to try the chef’s special this week.

You tried your hardest not to laugh at the image of them eating at this bougie restaurant once a week because you refused to date them.

Wine was ordered, and Sam went for the $25 salmon starter rather than the soup, which Bucky ordered with a knowing smirk.

“You must really like this place, Sam.” Sharon sipped her wine, eyeing the boys over her glass. Beneath the table, her hand found your knee and squeezed.

“The food is the best of the best,” he smiled proudly. 

“Only the best for the best, hmm.” Sharon challenged, and you reached for your wine glass, gulping down a quarter of the glass in one. Sam frowned, unsure what had warranted this hostility. Bucky hid his smirk behind his glass of scotch, fighting the urge to howl with laughter.

“Yes, well…” Sam turned to you. “Enjoying the wine, honey?” He turned on the charm, and you gave him a small smile.

“Oh, it’s great Sam.” You grinned, taking another sip. 

“It’s okay.” Sharon narrowed her eyes at Sam again, and you kicked her under the table. Bucky coughed to cover a laugh.

The dinner went on in a similar fashion, Sam incessantly hitting on you, each move deflected with a hostile comment from Sharon. You and Bucky eyed each other mischievously over the table, gulping down your drinks to hide your amusement.

After yet another antagonistic remark from Sharon, Sam had had enough.

“Alright, Carter.” He groaned, falling back into his chair, irritated that his best work was being hindered by her comments. “What is your  _ problem? _ ”

“My  _ problem _ is that you keep hitting on my  _ girlfriend _ , Wilson.” She glowered, and the table fell silent. Sam looked between the two of you, eyes wide. He searched for your expression for any sign that this was a joke, but instead, you offered him a weak smile.

Silence fell over the table.

Bucky spluttered into hysterical laughter, head thrown back as his guffaws echoed around the restaurant.

“SERIOUSLY?” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “How long?” 

“Two months.” Sharon finally relaxed, leaning closer to you and sipping her wine victoriously. 

“You let me eat dinner with this-” Sam gestured at Bucky, who was struggling to stay seated in his chair as he clutched his stomach, “tincan for  _ weeks. _ ”

“Sorry, Sam.” You shrugged. Sam downed his entire glass of wine.

A silence fell over you again, but you knew Sam wasn’t really mad by the way his lips kept threatening to quirk upwards. Bucky was still chuckling, face red with heat, the events of the evening going better than he could ever have _dreamed_. Sam opened his mouth, about to make a friendly comment, when a realisation hit him. 

“Wait… If you two are… and this is a… then that means…” he turned to Bucky, who managed to compose himself, patting his partner’s leg affectionately.

“Don’t worry, handsome. I’ll get the bill this time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO MORE PARTS I PROMISE
> 
> i do wanna write more buckysam tho....


End file.
